Chili Cheese Bacon Hot Dogs
by clair beaubien
Summary: AU post-Avengers. Loki is undergoing Asgardian rehabilitation and Odin has sent both him and Thor to visit Tony Stark. Loki & Tony have a lengthy conversation. Now up - Ch5: Thor and Loki the next morning.
1. Chapter 1

"What is that?" Loki asked, staring at the platter of food waiting on my kitchen counter.

"Those are chili cheese bacon hot dogs." I told him. "I made them myself."

It was the middle of May, we had decent weather, finally, and I'd invited a few Avenger friends - _Afreingers? _- over for an impromptu picnic on my nearly-fully-restored terrace. Thor had shown up unexpectedly, before any other guests, little brother in tow. Thor looked worried and stern and Loki looked worried and contrite and I thought for a minute that it was going to be one of those '_apologize to Mr. Stark for breaking his window'_ moments.

Turns out Loki had been rehabilitated. Or was rehabilitating. Or was something. And _'apologize to the nice neighbor_' turned into something more like, _'Mom and Dad said I couldn't go out unless I brought the Squirt with me, too_'.

All in all, it was a bit surreal.

So, now the rest of the guests had arrived and Thor was on the terrace explaining to Barton why he didn't need to annihilate Loki unless he wanted his head redecorated. I was in the kitchen, getting the food ready, being kept company by Loki like the fifth wheel he was turning out to be on this visit.

"Chili cheese bacon hot dogs." Loki repeated like he was memorizing a chemical formula. "What does one do with them?"

He sounded strange. Mostly because he didn't sound like a crazed overlord dictator wanna-be. He didn't look like one either. He was wearing a green button down shirt, black trousers that would pass for dress pants here on earth and black boots. He could walk out into public and blend right in, unlike Thor who came sporting his usual '_why yes, I am a smoking hot demigod, thanks for noticing_' outfit.

But Loki looked and sounded like a polite young man who found himself in a strange situation and was using what was going on around him to keep himself grounded.

Like I said – surreal.

"Well, 'one' eats them. We're having them for dinner." Then just to be sure he knew he was included in that, I added, "You're having one for dinner."

He looked at me, he looked at my culinary masterpiece, he looked back at me.

"_You_ expect _me _to put _that_ in my _mouth_?"

"Uhhh – unless you've discovered an alternate way of getting food into your stomach…" I said. Honestly, I would've laughed at how incredulous he looked except that he looked so _seriously_ incredulous, and even a tad bit afraid.

I guess they don't have chili bacon cheese dogs on Asgard. I took pity on his slightly queasy expression

"Look, why don't you grab whatever you like out of my refrigerator." I nodded at the fridge behind him. I grabbed the platter of hot dogs to bring out onto the terrace. "Just help yourself."

He nodded, looking a bit like I was offering him spiders or something equally disturbing, but still trying to be polite. I carried the food out to the terrace where Barton and Thor were trying to glare holes in each other's heads.

"Where is my brother?" Thor asked me. In that '_tell me or I shall smite you'_ tone of voice he uses for casual occasions.

"He's fine, big guy. We're having a nice chat in the kitchen. We'll call if we need you."

I pushed the platter at him until he took it, then I headed back to the kitchen to get the salad.

Loki had gotten himself a small bowl of green grapes out of the fridge and was sitting on a stool at my island, looking like the nerd kid brother sitting alone on the bleachers reading an AP chemistry book while big brother and friends were off schmoozing the cheerleaders.

He actually kind of looked sad sitting there. Like he knew he was the lame kid brother who nobody wanted around, who got brought along only because there was nothing else to do with him.

It was hard to believe he was the intergalactic terrorist who'd held the world in thrall not that long ago.

"Party's on the terrace, you know." I said.

"And were I to join it, it would cease to be a party."

Well, he had me there.

I went to the fridge and brought out a block of cheese and started cutting it into thick slices onto a small plate.

"So, explain to me again how this 'rehabilitation' things works." I asked him. "Thor was kind of short on details and long on 'because I say so.'"

I actually had a pretty good idea, it was a combination of magic, the Asgardian equivalent of psychotropic meds, and re-socialization and it was supposed to block his evil overlord tendencies. But I wanted to hear Loki's take on it.

"It is much like the gag I wore when Thor removed me from your planet. Only this is more of a – a – brain gag. It blocks my ability to use magic, but also has some effect on my emotions. My – my – _rage_ – I suppose. It is supposed to control my passion, but really all it seems to have done is made me cease caring about anything at all."

I was wondering if it acted like a truth serum as well, for the prompt, honest, detailed answer I was getting.

"Didn't want to come on this trip?" I asked, even though I figured I knew the answer.

He let out a deep sigh like he'd only been waiting to be asked the question.

"I want nothing more than to be back in my bed."

"Spending a lot of time there, lately, are we?"

He looked like maybe he was going to disagree, then maybe like he was embarrassed, and then maybe like he was relieved to be able to talk about it. He nodded.

"Let me guess," I started. I popped a piece of cheese in my mouth and set the rest of the plate in front of Loki. "Your parents forced you on this little field trip?"

"Yes."

"So, I'm guessing it was like – what's your Mom's name?"

He looked surprised by the question but he answered, "Frigga."

"Frigga. Frigga? Okay – so I bet your Dad was like –" I aped an exaggeratedly deep voice, "_'Frigga, he can't spend the rest of his life in his bedroom_,' and your Mom was like –" I switched to a high pitched woman's voice. " – '_No, Odin, it's too soon. He needs to rest_…'"

To my surprise but also to my relief and satisfaction, Loki smiled. It was actually a genuine, shy, even engaging smile.

"Yes, I think it transpired very much like that."

"Yeah, parents are pretty much the same all over." I said. "Hey, you should bring your folks for a visit sometime, you and Thor. I'd like to meet them."

"Odin is not an easy man to bear, even in casual circumstances."

"Ha. I survived my Dad; I'll survive yours."

"Mine is a demi-god." Loki pointed out. I didn't smile but from what I'd learned from Thor in the past about Loki's mindset, I figured it was a huge step that he was referring to Odin as his Dad. I pretended I was considering what he said.

"Naah, I still stand by what I said."

He smiled and picked up a slice of cheese and lost the smile.

"I do appreciate your hospitality but I can't imagine that all is as 'forgiven and forgotten' as it would appear."

"Yeah, well…" I set the block of cheese back in the refrigerator. "You're right. There's a ton of stuff – I mean, where do you even start? But – there isn't one person out on my terrace right now who hasn't been given a second chance at redemption. I'm willing to give you a chance."

He blinked a couple of times and very obviously swallowed.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Stark." He said. "Thank you for saying that not all is forgiven and forgotten. But also thank you for not saying that all is not forgiven nor forgotten."

"So – c'mon out to the terrace."

"No. I'll stay here and eat your grapes and wait for Thor to decide we've trespassed long enough and it's safe to return home."

"What do you do at home?"

"I stay in my chambers, primarily. As you gathered. In all honesty, there are times I miss my cell. At least there I was free from the constant admonitions to _buck up_, _persevere, be happy_."

He rolled his eyes and sighed and ate the piece of cheese he was still holding.

"You know what?" I said. "Ask your Dad sometime if you can borrow the car and come for a visit by yourself."

"Why?"

"Because it sounds like you could use some time away from Mom and Dad and Big Brother watching your every move."

He tipped his head like he was considering me, weighing my words, or the motivation behind them.

"Pardon my continuing incredulity – I _am _very, very grateful for your welcome and hospitality – but that doesn't answer my question."

Since I didn't have a ready answer for that question, I evaded it.

"You know, I gotta ask – when you were growing up, did you and Thor have to study sword fighting, war craft, battlefield surgery, and elocution?"

He gave me such a puzzled look that I let it drop.

What was I supposed to say? That I have a soft spot for kicked puppies, which he was looking like right now. I laugh in the face of danger? I only feel alive when I'm in immediate danger of dying? I really like annoying Thor?

"Honestly, I don't know. I just think that if this rehabilitation thing is going to work, you need to spend time around somebody who isn't going to treat you like a melted candle or a lit fuse."

He blinked again, rapidly.

"Thank you. That is very kind of you."

"Stark's being kind?" That was Bruce, coming into the kitchen. "Is the world coming to an end again?"

I gave him a 'ha ha' look but Loki seemed to pull back into himself, until Bruce turned to him and smiled.

"How're you doing, Loki?"

"I – uh – I am well, thank you for asking. I hope that you've been well, as well."

It sounded a little bit like a question. Well, more of a question than it already was. I thought he must've pulled it out some royal protocol of 'questions to ask when you're terrified of the person talking to you'.

"I have been well, thanks." Bruce said.

"You know, evil overlord tendencies aside," I said to Loki, "You really are much nicer than Thor, even on his best day. Speaking of which – " I turned back to Bruce "- who's keeping an eye on the rockem sockem robots?"

"Pepper threatened them with personal bodily harm if they disturb the peace. She sent me for the salad."

Loki suddenly looked like somebody suddenly pulled a gun on him.

"I'm keeping you from your guests."

Like he was keeping me there against my will.

"You're my guest, too." I pointed out to him.

"No, I – I – " He stammered and looked down at the grapes and cheese like they were further confirmation that I meant what I said. I thought the shock alone would kill him. "Ohhh…"

Bruce smiled and I rolled my eyes and he took the salad out to the terrace.

"Please don't tell me you've never been a guest before." I said to Loki.

"There – uh – there was a feast in my honor when I completed university, and then when I attained my majority. But to be invited into someone's home –" He looked around my kitchen, up at the ceiling and around at the cupboards when he said that – "Other than a few times in my childhood, when I was invited to the homes of schoolmates for birthday celebrations or what have you, I – no – I've not been a guest very often."

"Hard to be the king's son." I offered.

"Harder to be a child with a penchant for mischief and no incentive to endear himself to his peers."

"Well-behaved children are so boring." I said. It got me another smile from Loki. A sad smile.

"But perhaps not as lonely." He said.

Yep, elocution and truth serum. Without a doubt.

"I'm sorry." Loki said then. "Surely I'm the last person in the Nine Realms who should be complaining about _anything. _And to be unburdening myself to you of all people is the height of poor taste."

He looked down at his grapes and cheese but didn't eat any more of them. He pushed at the plates with his finger and – if possible – he looked even sadder.

"Actually, I'm the perfect person to unburden to." I said. I waited for Loki to look up and ask,

"Why?"

"Because I'm willing to listen."

That took him a moment to answer.

"That is quite more than I deserve, I assure you."

At that moment, I didn't agree with him.

"You don't talk to anyone at home?" I asked.

He shook his head and took another bite of cheese.

"Thor believes that all care can be ameliorated with physical activity and high spirits. And ale. Mother on the other hand is much too solicitous and cautious on my behalf and is forever assessing my physical health and determining whether or not I've eaten enough."

Yep, that sounded like a Mom and a big brother.

"And your Dad?"

Loki shrugged.

"Father bids me walk with him every evening, when the hallways of the palace are not busy. We walk to the parapet and watch the sun set over the mountains, then he walks me back to my chambers and bids me goodnight."

"No talking?"

"He doesn't require it and I don't fancy it. In any event, Father seems to know already all of what lies on my soul."

Something about the way he said that jogged something in my mind. Something unpleasant.

"Were you tortured?" I asked. Loki looked horrified.

"No. Of course not. Father would never – "

"No. Not Asgard. Not your Dad. When you fell off of Asgard, wherever you landed where you met up with the chitauri – did they torture you?"

Really, I had my answer just from the look on his face and the way his breathing picked up. So, when he started evading the question -

"I admit, they did have a rather emphatic manner of inducement which they employed upon me to –"

- I didn't want to wade through the verbiage.

"_Loki?"_

"Yes." He said, answering my question. "And while they possess a rather sophisticated means of inflicting physical pain, it was nothing compared to the pain they inflicted on my spirit. Although, I admit, for that I provided them a rather sturdy platform on which to build."

He'd been tortured. The polite young man sitting in my kitchen eating my grapes and making pleasant conversation had been tortured, physically and psychologically and probably in ways nobody on earth or even Asgard could imagine.

"Do your parents know?"

"Father guessed."

"Trust me – he didn't guess. He looked at you, he looked at his son, and he knew."

It took a few long seconds but Loki nodded.

"It did occur to me that that may have been the case, but I thought it might just have been wishful thinking on my part."

Just as I was about to assure him that it wasn't wishful thinking that his father would know and understand him that well, Pepper appeared in the kitchen, carrying two plates of salad.

"Hey, guys." She said. She sounded fine, casual, no big deal, but I knew it was an act. A 'play the polite hostess' act. Rehabilitating now or not, Loki had killed Coulson – Phil – and Pepper would never forgive him for that.

Loki apparently understood that. He went very still and very straight and seemed to be waiting for what would happen next. His eyes were wide.

But all that happened was that Pepper set the plates of salad down in front of us. Loki deflated like somebody had popped his balloon.

"Thank you. That is most kind of you."

There was a moment's pause, when anything might have gotten said, then Pepper smiled and it was almost 100% genuine.

Okay, well it was more than 12%, anyway.

"I wasn't sure what you might like and Thor had no clue, so – "

She let it hang there and Loki – I'm pretty sure – opened up his trove of royal manners again for how to behave in very awkward moments. He smiled his engaging smile.

"It's excellent. I do thank you."

"You're welcome." Pepper said with a maybe 18% smile.

"How are things going out there?" I asked her.

"Tense, but at least nobody is chewing through the cutlery. That's a good thing."

"I'm sorry to have disrupted your plans for the evening, Miss Potts." Loki said, in his 'polite young man' voice. He paused and looked down and his mouth pulled down in a grimace. "I'm sorry for so many things."

It looked like he was going to say something else, but he didn't and Pepper smiled her own grimace at me and went back to the terrace.

"I thought maybe you were going to add something to that." I said.

"Yes, well…" Loki pulled his plate of salad closer and picked up a cherry tomato. I had the fleeting thought that maybe Pepper had spit in his salad and maybe I should engineer a switch. And then I thought that letting Loki stay here even just for dinner might be enough for her to spit in my salad too, so I left it alone, while Loki explained.

"I had thought to apologize for – for everything. I am aware that I killed a very close friend of yours and hers and I was going to offer my regret, but I realized that anything of that sort at that moment would have been pathetically inadequate, monstrously ill-timed and boorishly self-serving."

"Still – I think she was waiting to hear it."

He nodded and ate the cherry tomato and looked like he was so very tired of so many things.

"Perhaps if the moment presents itself again."

I was going to ask if he wanted to take a walk, get some air. But the city was still rebuilding and he probably didn't want or need to see what was left of the destruction he caused. A board game maybe. A game of cards. Tiddly Winks. Something. Anything. Just to get his mind somewhere else.

"Truly, Mr. Stark." He said, like he could read my mind. "You needn't neglect your guests – your _other_ guests – any longer on my account. Simply allowing me over your threshold was quite more than I expected and infinitely more than I deserve. You can be assured that I will wreak no havoc, unleash no devastation, attempt to conquer nothing more than this food you have graciously provided me if left on my own."

He smiled, trying to sell it to me, but I wasn't buying. But before I could say anything else, Pepper reappeared, carrying two chili cheese bacon dogs on two plates.

"These are going fast. I didn't want you to miss out."

She said it pleasantly but was turning and walking away almost before she set the plates down.

"_The moment is passing." _I sing-song stage whispered to Loki. He stood up fast, squeaking the stool against the floor.

"Miss Potts?"

She stopped and turned back; the stiff look on her face told me that she was running out of 'polite hostess' minutes. Loki took a few steps around the island but stopped several feet short of her.

"What I meant to say before is – I am very sorry for all the pain and loss and devastation that I have caused in your life. I'm not asking your forgiveness; I'm not even asking that you believe my remorse. I only wanted the chance to tell you. And – I apologize if this wasn't the right moment." Then he added, like he was talking to himself, "As if there could ever be the right moment."

I didn't expect Pepper to forgive Loki, and she didn't. And she didn't have to. She nodded, "All right," and left us alone again.

Loki sank back down on the stool.

"I don't understand why Father ever said we should come here."

"Your Dad specifically told you to come here?" I asked. I actually kind of thought they'd come here because I was the only place Thor could think of, not because Dad-the-demi-god had authorized it.

"Yes. Specifically here, specifically now. Mother says that there's always a purpose to what Father does but I can't imagine he wanted to inflict more pain on the people I've already harmed so much."

He took a few sharp, shallow breaths. More than a few.

"Would you – might I impose upon you further and ask you to send Thor to me? I believe I must call a halt to this – this – surely Father can think of ways to humble me without devastating the feelings of others."

"You think your Dad sent you here to hurt you?"

Just from the little bit Loki had just told me of a Dad who took his broken son every night to watch the sunset, I didn't think that was a Dad who would go out of his way to hurt him.

"What other purpose could there be?" Loki asked.

"You tell me."

He thought about it, eyes down on his increasingly untouched snack. He shrugged and shook his head, all kind of in the same gesture.

"You think maybe he was hoping it would help you, somehow? You think maybe he's got this kid, _his_ kid, who's depressed and hurting and he doesn't know how to help him? That maybe he's flying blind on this, making it up as he goes?"

"Odin always knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, as King. Banishing Thor was a king's problem and a king's decision. You sitting all day alone in your room is a father's problem. And Odin can't just issue a proclamation or edict or whatever it is kings issue to make things happen and make you feel better."

Loki chewed on that for a moment or two. I got the impression he'd been giving it some thought even before I brought it up.

"I sometimes think that since his initial plans for me have been rendered moot, he is attempting to discover to what other use I might be put."

"Wow, that's kind of harsh on the old man." I said.

Loki shrugged. "A 'king's decision' as you say."

"What were his original plans for you?"

He looked embarrassed, he looked like he was deeply considering what he was going to say to me.

"I am of Jotun blood." He said. He didn't look at me when he said it. "At least partly. At the end of the last war with Jotunheim, when I was an infant, Father plucked me from the snow and brought me to Asgard. He told me, when he finally did tell me, that he intended, he hoped, to bring peace to both our worlds through me."

"Through you how?"

"I'm not sure. He only said he wanted to 'unite our kingdoms'."

"You think maybe he meant you'd be king of Jotunheim?"

He shrugged.

"Perhaps."

"And the Jotuns, they're a cranky bunch, are they?"

"They are an aggressively warrior race, yes."

"Huh." I gave a thorough look to my salad and then ate a snap pea. I considered everything Thor had told me of his family situation and what had been going on in Asgard before Loki made SHIELD's acquaintance. "Who runs Asgard when Odin is taking his Odin sleep?"

"Mother. The Queen does."

"So – Odin was going to make Thor King of Asgard, right there where Mom and Dad would be standing right behind him. But you – Odin thought you not only could rule Jotunheim on your own, but that you could bring that warrior race to peace. Good lord, you're right. That man hates you."

Well, Loki spent a good long minute letting that sink in. I guess the possibility - probability - that his Dad had that much confidence in him came as a surprise to Loki.

"I hadn't considered that that might be – that is, Father never said what his precise plan entailed."

"Did you _give_ him the chance to lay out his precise plan?"

He had the good grace to look abashed.

"No, I didn't. I accused him of abominable things and - and – he collapsed and had to go immediately into Odin-sleep. The next time we talked was when I'd been returned to Asgard to face justice. Our conversations since then have been less than significant."

"Oh, I don't know. I think what your Dad is saying every time you watch the sunset together is pretty significant."

As soon as that thought hit Loki, he looked like he was in so much pain I considered risking my life and alerting Thor that his brother needed him because I'd caused him some hurt.

"I – I have never let myself believe that. I've never – I've only thought that the time we spend together is as uncomfortable for him as it is for me. That he sought my company only from some outdated sense of duty or perhaps because Mother made him. I never thought – "

He stopped short and turned his attention back to the plates in front of himself so abruptly I got the impression he was reeling all his emotions back into himself and out of public view. Then his expression evened out. He pulled the salad closer to himself and ate it with his fingers.

I was going to get Thor to come in anyway, I thought Loki needed his brother, but he beat me to it and marched into my kitchen a few bites of salad later.

"How are you faring, brother?" He asked Loki, while giving me the 'I _will_ smite you if you harmed him' look.

"Could we perhaps return home, now?" Loki asked. Thor bristled so obviously, I expected lightning to strike at any moment.

"Why? What's happened? What did Stark say to you?"

"All is well, Thor. Truly. Mr. Stark and I had a very pleasant conversation. I just –" Loki gave a long look to me. "I would like to get back in time to watch the sunset with Father."

Even though his relief was obvious, I think Thor was a little put out that he didn't get to smite anyone. "Of course. We will take our leave then." Not nearly as polite as his little brother, he simply turned on his heel and marched back out of the kitchen, heading for the smaller, service terrace where they'd first arrived this visit. Loki stood up to follow him out.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. For everything."

"You're welcome. Enjoy your sunset."

He nodded and smiled and started to walk out. Then he stopped, just long enough to grab his chili bacon cheese hot dog. He raised it in half a salute, took a bite out of it, then carried it with him as he hurried to catch up with his brother.

The end.


	2. Chapter 2

"Brother, may we go home now?"

I thought those were the most welcome words I'd heard in an age. I had grown weary of tarrying at Stark's home. To fight a battle, slay a monster, save a world, I would gladly give myself to this band of warriors. To sit and wait and try to conjure polite things to say was beyond my endurance.

Especially since this band of warriors each had a personal grievance with my brother.

Banner and Rogers at least took an interest in Loki's healing, and even seemed pleased by it for Loki's sake. Miss Romanov was pleased, though not for Loki's sake but rather for the sake of the realms he would no longer threaten. Miss Potts held her own counsel.

Barton however would see Loki dead, dead, and deader and I had no desire to remain long in his company. I have no doubt he felt the same way about me.

So when I went to see how Loki fared alone with Stark and he requested we return to Asgard, I was quite ready to do as he wished.

Perhaps too ready, as in retrospect, I don't recall bidding anyone farewell.

I marched down the hallway which led to the platform from which we would journey back to Asgard. I expected my brother to be right behind me but when I turned, he was several lengths behind me. In his hand, he carried a strange object. Miss Potts had informed me that it was a type of food, but it rather looked like something a bilgesnipe had snorted at me once.

"What _is_ that?" I asked my brother as he caught up with me and we continued walking to the platform.

"This is a cheese bacon chili dog."

"And you actually put that into your mouth?"

"That _is_ the only way to get food into one's stomach, is it not?"

I was about to mention the bilgesnipe to him when I realized – he was eating. I hadn't seen my brother eat anything since before he had been lost to Asgard. Since his return, since his healing had begun, Mother and I had plied him time after time with one delicacy after another, any and all of what had ever been his favorite food and beverages. But though he would take them into his chambers, they were most often returned untouched, and we never witnessed him eating anything.

Yet ~ he took another bite of the miscreation he held in his hand ~ he was eating now.

"What were you and Stark discussing?" I asked. Whatever it was, it seemed to have acted as a livener on Loki.

"Sundry things. Nothing of import. He said we should bring Mother and Father for a visit."

That made me laugh out loud.

"Yes, we should." I said, in the midst of my laughter. "I would love to see Father in the company of Stark, a man who has no reason to either fear him or venerate him. Can you imagine?"

Loki laughed as well, something else of which I had seen him too little do.

"We would do well to have the Odinsleep prepared, Father would need it after an evening in Mr. Stark's company." He said. It was good to see him joking again.

And then: "He said – Mr. Stark also said that I might visit him again, as well. On my own."

The very words caused my ire to rise. Stark had proven no adversary on this journey but there must be some mischief or malevolence afoot for him to invite Loki back unprotected.

"_Alone?_"

"Yes. Alone." Loki said it simply enough, but then he must've understood my reaction. "No, truly, I believe he meant it as a genuine invitation. He intends me no harm."

"And you would like to return here?" I asked. I was not convinced of Stark's good intentions. And although Loki had always been able to read other people's intent better than they themselves could, I feared that might not be the case in his present condition.

"Yes, I would. I think I would like to spend time with someone who doesn't act as though I'm about to break."

It wasn't said as a barb, and yet it pained me. We stopped walking; I would address this with my brother now.

"If I treat you as though you would break, it is because I fear breaking you."

"And yet, how does one grow strong if one is not tested?"

Loki's verbal parries were just as strong as ever, that was a certainty. But I knew he was asking it of me seriously.

"I would not have you tested beyond your endurance, Brother. I _will_ not. If Stark would have you back, he will prove himself worthy of it first or you shall not return alone."

"Has he not proved it already? Don't his actions this day prove his 'worthiness'?"

"Perhaps…" I allowed. "He does show himself supportive and understanding of Banner whenever we are gathered. He does not act as though he fears Banner 'breaking' and turning into – "

I didn't catch the meaning behind my remarks until I had spoken too much.

"Forgive me, Brother. I did not mean to imply that there is any similarity between you and the creature that Banner becomes."

"No, it is a fair analogy." Loki said. There was a long hassock against the wall in the hallway we were traversing and he lowered himself to sit on it. "The beast and I are both monsters driven by rage, both – "

"You will not speak of yourself so." I told him. I told it to him gently for I did fear breaking him. "You know that I do not allow it."

Loki smiled at me. It was the smile of surprised delight as when he'd received a gift he hadn't been expecting but dearly wanted nonetheless.

"Yes, Brother. I do know that."

"Good."

I looked over the hassock to judge its strength and then seated myself next to Loki.

"Well, perhaps Stark has proven himself enough to allow you to return unaccompanied. But if, when, you return, you will bring sustenance from Asgard. I do not care for his choice of provender. I can't believe you're eating it."

Loki looked at the chili bacon cheese dog he held in his hand.

"He said he made them himself. He seemed rather proud of that fact. I thought that eating one would be fair recompense for his hospitality." He held it toward me. "Would you like half?"

I stared at him in shock.

"No stalwart prince of Asgard who values his health and stamina would e'er consider putting that vile substance into his person." I said, pretending to be mightily affronted.

"_Yes, Thor. I am aware of that_." Loki answered me testily. He paused a moment. "So, do you want half or not?"

I laughed. How could I not? I laughed loud and long. My brother was on his way back to me. I lifted the food from his hand and took a fair bite of it. While it was not as delicious as pheasant , it was not as vile as it first appeared.

"Come, Brother." I stood. "Let us to home again and find some good ale to accompany this foodstuff. I would not give Stark all glory this evening."

"Nor would I." Loki said. He stood and we continued to the platform.

I tore the remains of the chili cheese bacon dog in half and we consumed it all before we returned home.

The End


	3. Chapter 3

No inconsequential matters are ever brought before the King. I have ministers and deputies who hear, review, and decide all that which can be heard, reviewed, and decided at the lower levels of government, without a King's intervention. And so, only the truly weighty matters ever require my attention.

Land disputes are never inconsequential matters, as most wars are begun over the desire to possess lands. But the fact that the outcome of a matter is of some consequence does not mean that the matter itself need be exciting.

I'd been laboring all afternoon with two crofters and their advocates over the question of the changeable boundary of river and rock between their two smallholdings. Their complaints were tedious and of longstanding dispute, their opinions of their own importance overblown, and they refused to be brought to easy resolution.

So it was with great relief for many reasons that I heard the words from my herald, "Your sons have returned to the palace."

I turned to the men in my presence and assured them, in my best kingly tone and practiced verse, "I shall give the matter great thought and give you my answer in three days' time. Until then, I suggest you return home and tend to your land and your families."

They grumbled in their throats but allowed themselves to be escorted out. As they passed the door to my presence chamber, they stopped and bowed to someone out of my view. I thought it must be Thor. They would only bow to someone of the royal family; my Queen was meeting with her own ministers and Loki no doubt had retired immediately to his chambers as was his wont.

So I expected Thor to burst into my chamber with his usual high spirits and swagger, telling me all of his journey to Midgard with his brother. Making much of his own exploits and giving a hopeful account of Loki's reaction to the experience.

But it was Loki in my doorway.

For many long moments, the surprise took all speech from me. Since being freed from his cell, my youngest son had spent all but a few moments of every day in his chambers. To see him, of his own free will, standing at my door was a joy I thought to never experience again.

"My son!" I exclaimed with true happiness. "Come in!"

His expression, which had begun to grow perplexed, doubtless at my silence, brightened.

"Forgive my interruption, Father. I wanted to let you know I had returned so that we might walk together this evening."

My power of speech was once more taken from me, this time for the smile that broke upon my face. Though we had for above a fortnight walked together each night, it was my belief that Loki only accompanied me because his mother required it of him. Or – I was loathe to think it – perhaps he harbored some fear of chastisement were he not to accompany me.

Only in quiet moments when recalling happier times with my son did I allow myself to hope that Loki enjoyed our time together as much as I did.

Again, despite the smile on my face, Loki took my silence for something else.

"That is, if you wish to," he amended.

"I do wish to." I told him. "Come in and wait for a moment; I have but a few details to address before the day's responsibilities are at last concluded."

He smiled, though it was tentative at best, and walked fully into my chamber.

Where he stood, looking uncertain of what to do, how to behave.

"Would you bring me some water?" I asked. "No matter how often it occurs, I am always surprised how thirsty I get listening to others hold forth on their own opinions."

His expression brightened again, as though grateful to have a task to accomplish.

"Certainly."

He went to the table set in the corner behind the arras and in a moment brought me a goblet of water while I made some annotations to the grievance in my hand. I saw that he held a second goblet as well, and as I took mine and thanked him, he drank deeply from his own.

How long had it been since I'd seen my son eat or drink anything?

As long as it had been since he'd done anything for himself without seeking permission first.

Too long.

"I see that listening to Thor hold forth is just as drying as listening to plaintiffs." I said in jest.

"He does still appreciate the sound of his own voice." Loki said, and I thought a small smile flickered in the corner of his mouth. "That much has not changed. But it was the journey itself that has left me dry."

I set aside my work and motioned Loki to the couch at the far wall. We walked there together and he waited for me to take my seat first. I sat not quite in the middle so that he could not sit the full distance from me.

As it happened, he sat not quite in the middle as well, so we were but a hand's breadth apart. I thought not to do it but I could not help myself; I reached out and gently, briefly, let my hand rest on his shoulder.

His shoulder which felt much too thin.

"Tell me of your journey." I asked. I thought it could not be but a happy tale given Loki's improved temper, but still I held my breath.

"It was – hard. That I do admit freely." He said. "Mr. Stark was having a small feast, a 'picnic' he called it, a celebration to honor fair weather, and all of the warriors I had opposed were there. It was – it was hard to be near those I had treated so vilely and attempted to bring to death. It was hard."

"Were they vengeful?" I asked. If they were, I had no doubt that Thor would have dealt with them, quickly and permanently.

"I did not see them. Not all of them. I spoke only with Mr. Stark and his lady, Miss Potts. And the healer, Banner. The others, the others Thor kept at a distance."

"I can well imagine." I said. Loki took another ample swallow of his drink. "Did Mr. Stark deny you water?"

"No, he was most kind and eminently hospitable. I believe the food I ate there was perhaps too salty."

"And what food did he serve at his feast? Salted beef?"

"It may have been beef, I'm not sure. It seemed to be a smoked meat of some sort, but formed as a tube. It was held in a sheath of bread and covered with bacon that was rather thin and cheese that was rather fainthearted, and covered overall with a spiced sauce. "

Even as I was following his description, I was struck by the fact that he was talking. Loki, my son, was freely talking to me, smiling and laughing, when he had done none of those for age upon age. He spoke of eating as though he had not spent these many weeks emphatically avoiding such occupation.

"And it was edible?"

"It wasn't Mother's roast pheasant, but it neither was it her liver pudding." He said. I was sure that he was trying to subdue a smile. My dear Frigga's liver pudding had long been a trial in our family.

"Nothing _is_ your mother's pudding."

I smiled and Loki laughed and then while he took another sip of water, I simply gazed upon him, this child I had thought lost too many times.

This child of my heart.

"Mr. Stark invited you and Mother to visit him." Loki said, rousing me from my reverie.

"Really? For what reason?" I asked. A king and queen were never invited anywhere for small purposes.

"A visit. Just a visit. Nothing official. Not that he intimated."

"Then it a most unusual request. He is not a leader of his world?"

"No, and there is no king in his land but I believe he is accustomed to feasting prominent people in his government and in trade. For all that, though, I daresay he is unaware of official protocol."

Loki sipped some more water from his goblet before adding,

"Truthfully, I think perhaps he would like to match wits with you."

Ah, now there was a purpose.

"And who do you think would win?"

Loki shrugged but his expression softened as he looked at me. I thought it might be a smile of pride.

"One might well ask who wins, the raindrops or the ocean?"

I smiled and again allowed myself the privilege and joy of touching my son, grasping his shoulder once more.

"Perhaps we should visit and discover the answer to that question."

"Yes, perhaps we should." He agreed, still smiling. "Shall we walk? The sun is setting."

"Yes, let's."

Leaving the presence chamber seemed to have a dampening effect on Loki's mood. He was quiet once more, awkwardly quiet, as we walked the corridor to the parapet. I didn't know if I should query him further on his journey to Midgard. Would he not continue speaking of it if he wished to, without prompting?

Were this a negotiation, a treaty, an alliance, a declaration of war, I would know how to act.

But it was my son, my child, and I wasn't sure how to have a simple conversation with him.

"Did you wear no coat?" I asked him, finally taking a father's prerogative. "Were you warm enough?"

"It was warm enough in Midgard, and anyway, I never left Mr. Stark's tower." He hesitated a moment, both in speech and step, and then continued. "In truth, all but the simplest clothing weighs ill upon me lately. As though it is all too heavy to be supported. It is suffocating."

I was about to ask if he felt he had a fever or if it was the fabric stuff or manner of its washing that vexed him somehow, but he went on.

"But then I think – my usual apparel is appropriate to, and indicative of, my position as your son. Perhaps I simply no longer deserve the honors of that."

He didn't look at me when he said that. He wasn't asking me to dispute or agree. He simply left it where I could make what I would of it.

Asking a question of great import of me.

Would I leave him to his informal clothing, indicating that he no longer had need to appear as my son. Or force oppressive clothing upon him, indicating that his comfort was of no matter to me.

I knew, from ages of experience as warrior and king, that it was not his clothing which vexed him. When a man has been to battle, has been held captive and tortured and the flames of vengeance have burned through his spirit, I knew that when that man came back to himself, the _world_ weighed ill upon him.

"Tomorrow, then, when you've rested from your journey, we'll have the mistress of the wardrobe fashion you the appropriate clothing made from lighter stuff."

He looked at me, searched my face for the truth of it, nodded.

"Thank you, Father."

We had reached the wall and casements and we stood silently for a few moments, as we always did, watching the setting sun drive flames into the horizon.

Then Loki asked, "How fares the realm?"

Since it was the thing most recently on my mind, I answered,

"I am entangled in a dispute between two crofters. For years, for ever, the boundary between their lands has been the Allende River. Last month there was a flood and a landslide and now the river has changed course, no doubt until the next landslide which may come never. Both men want the good bottom land which has been exposed and neither wants the bog which has been created and I spent too many hours of my day listening to their ancient complaints against each other."

Loki was quiet then, thoughtful, and I wondered if he had wanted news of a grander scale.

"Do you remember when Thor and I were children?" He asked, and paused just long enough for me to think, '_of course I remember – it was but this morning'_

"We each wanted to build a fortress on the sward near the fen. We each wanted the high ground. You gave us a map of the land and said to divide the land evenly. You had me draw the boundaries and Thor was given first choice. I don't believe Thor has stuck that close by my side other than whenever I have had the Anagatan fever."

I considered his words.

"That is sound counsel, my son. Let the crofters work out their own boundaries, or else they will never be satisfied. I will employ it. Thank you."

I knew Loki hadn't been offering counsel, only reminiscence. And even if I hadn't known it, the surprised look on his face would have told me.

"Uh – yes – of course. You're welcome." He stammered out.

I almost said that he would make a good king, and so he would if he could but leave madness and rage behind. But there was no throne for him now, not on Asgard nor on Jotunheim. So I kept that thought in silence.

"The crofters are to return in three days' time. Will you attend me when I give them my decision?"

It was not an unusual question; I often had Loki and Thor with me as I heard grievances and meted justice. But at this moment my son's eyes were so wide I was sure they couldn't get any wider.

"After all, as my second, with Thor, your place is at my side."

I was mistaken – Loki's eyes did indeed grow wider.

"I – why – that is – I – yes. Yes, Father. Of course, I will accompany you."

"Good."

We waited the next many minutes in silence, as the sun fully set behind the mountains and the passage behind us became cast in flickering shadows from the minder lamps along the walls.

The shadows under my son's eyes were not caused by those lamps.

"Come. I'll walk with you back to your chambers, now."

We progressed slowly; I kept pace with Loki who seemed to grow more deep in thought the farther we walked.

When we arrived at his chambers and I opened the doors for him, he paused.

"May I ask – how fares Jotunheim? Do you know?"

"They rebuild." I told him. "Slowly. They are in much disarray, as one might imagine."

"Is there anything we can do to help them?"

I was surprised by the question, surprised that it came from Loki, but it was a question I had asked myself repeatedly.

"There is none we offer that they accept. And none they want that we would give."

Loki nodded, wearily, as though the same answers had already occurred to him. He walked into his room and sat on his bed as heavily as if all Nine Realms rested on his shoulders. He laughed quietly, to himself, but I did not like the sound of it.

I closed his doors and sat beside him.

"What is it?" I asked. It was not something pleasant, of that I was sure.

"I was only thinking - what I've done, the pain and death I've caused, in all three realms, the horror of it is with me always. There are moments, many moments, when I wonder how I can continue to bear it. But it just occurred to me –the devastation I caused on Jotunheim – surely, I am become the monster that Jotuns tell their children about night." He drew in a breath that was heavy with tears. "Even to monsters, I am a monster."

He laughed again, an ugly sound, but it softened into an anguished sigh and then he was weeping. My son, my child, was weeping. He tried to stop it, to hide it from me. All his life he disliked showing weakness, as he felt weeping was, but he was spent now, more than physically spent, and he did not resist when I embraced him.

This at least was something that I, as his Father, knew how to address.

"There now, there." I soothed him, gently, as I felt him lay his head on my shoulder. "You are not a monster, Loki. You never have been. Neither are the Jotuns monsters. Have you ever heard me describe them as such? No. _I _have long been the monster they warn their children of. And so I am still. They know not who is responsible."

I felt his hands grip tight across my back and a shudder ran through him, body and breath.

"I would take this pain from you, if I could." I whispered to him. "I would bear it for you if I but had the power or wisdom to do so."

After a moment or two, Loki drew a deep breath.

"And no doubt, I would once have gladly let you take it." He said against my shoulder in a tearful gasp of laughter. "But I should bear this, should I not? This pain is of my own creation of mischief and malice, and so I should bear it."

"And still I would bear it for you."

He nodded and was still. He was too slight in my arms and too warm, I thought. I held him tighter.

The healers had told us that Loki's journey back to us could be lengthy and would take much out of him. They said that it would be our duty to be patient and nurturing, to support and encourage him back to health and reason.

Frigga had been incensed to be reminded of her 'duty' as Loki's mother and would have blasted their ears from their heads with her ire. I too, at the time, had felt those instructions to be unnecessary, though with less wrath than my dear wife exhibited. But now, with my son unwell and trembling in my embrace, now I replayed those words in my memory.

Loki needed to be brought back to health. To accomplish that required that he eat. To accomplish _that_, he had to be offered foods that he would eat. What, if anything, had he eaten lately?

Smoked tubes of beef in sheaths of bread.

"The food you ate on Midgard," I asked. "Do you think it could be improved with good Asgardian bacon and cheese?"

"Oh, yes, definitely." Loki answered with a much improved laugh. He sat back from me and wiped his eyes. "And with our beef and our bread. The only ingredient I don't know how to create is the spiced sauce. But I'm sure, with some trial and error, we could reproduce that as well. And better."

I bit my tongue on asking, '_And will you eat them_?' and asked instead, "Were they to Thor's liking?"

"Thor said no worthy Asgardian warrior would ever put such a substance in his mouth…." Loki swept away the last of his tears with the heel of one hand. "So, naturally, I offered him half."

The surprise of the last statement, expressed with such a solemn air, caused laughter to burst from me.

"Naturally. What else could you do?"

We laughed together, and the shadows seemed to fade from under his eyes and I saw my son. The forsaken babe I had first cradled so very long ago, the young boy so anxious and able to learn all I could teach him, the bright young man physically and verbally sparring with his brother, the sullen prisoner returned to Asgard, the melancholy patient struggling to endure the healers' remedy.

And this young man, who seemed to have finally made his way through the dark passageway of pain and contrition and was reaching for the door into fullness and life.

My son.

My child.

"I do love you, Loki, my son, so very much."

And my son blessed me with a smile so genuine, so loving, so peaceful, it nearly stole the breath from my body.

"Yes, Father. I know you do. I do finally know that."

This child of my heart.

.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Queens do not run.

To be a Queen, one must learn to be a Queen, and one learns that Queens do not run.

A Queen may hasten, she may hurry, she may quicken her steps. She does not run.

Many times, though, have I been Mother before Queen and I have run.

"_The Bifrost has been ruptured; the King and your sons are there..."_ and I ran.

My heart lifted when I saw my husband and my oldest son walking towards me and I looked beyond them to assure myself that my youngest was also safe. What I saw was the stricken look on Odin's face and the tears on Thor's and – I am told – I collapsed.

"_Heimdall has seen Loki; he is alive…"_ and I ran.

My heart lifted when I saw my husband and my oldest son hurrying towards me, tearful smiles on their faces and – I am told – I hugged Heimdall with such force, he had to ask me to desist.

"_Your son has awakened; he calls for you…"_

The healers had done all they could for Loki; all that remained was to let his mind and spirit become accustomed to their new boundaries. He remained in his cell, sleeping, watched over by his mother and protected by my most trusted and circumspect guards, until I saw what effect the remedy had had.

I passed the hours of my son's sleep walking up and down the corridor outside his cell. I was at the casements, breathing the fresh air, when the captain of the guard came to tell me Loki was awake, and I ran to be with him.

His awakening had not been pleasant. I found him on his knees next to his bed, arms pressed over his head, whispering something over and over. I went to him.

"Put it back, put it back," he was repeating as I knelt by his side. "Please – put it back."

"Put what back? Loki, my son, put what back?"

"Me," he said and he sobbed. "_Put me back_."

I held him until he was calm enough to be brought to his chambers, and his father and Thor and I watched his slow progress back to us.

"_Loki actually ate while we were at Stark's; grapes and cheese and some bizarre concoction of I know not what sort of food and he has now gone to Father of his own accord…" _Thor exuberantly informed me immediately upon their return from Midgard.

"_Our son is laughing and smiling; he has let himself be open again…" _Odin beamed as he told me of his customary evening walk with Loki.

After my husband had informed me of all that had passed between them as they spoke on their walk, and that Loki had returned to his chambers, I dismissed my ministers and hurried to my son.

It's possible that I ran there.

I didn't knock and wait admission, something that in the past often earned me both of my sons' embarrassed outrage. I pressed the handle and pushed the door and went in.

One lamp burned. The couch was empty. The bed was empty.

The chamber appeared empty.

"_Loki?"_

"I am here, Mother." His voice reached me from his balcony. The draperies pulled aside and my son walked into the room.

My son.

Not a sad memory, not an angry shadow, not an empty husk.

"No need to put the guard on alert." He was smiling as he said it. "I have not fled."

My son.

I went to him and hugged him. He laughed and slipped his arms around me.

"I was gone from Asgard but an hour, Mother; surely that does not warrant such an impassioned return. Thor alone has not embraced me this day."

"You have been gone longer than that." I said. I felt him draw a deep breath.

"Yes, too long." He tightened his grasp and I no longer felt that it was I who was embracing him, but he who was embracing me. "I do appreciate the warmth of your greeting."

I held onto him a few moments more and then stepped back to have a proper look at him. Even if his father hadn't told me of the tears Loki had shed, I could see the evidence of them still on his face, cheeks pale, eyes red-rimmed. He wore still the clothes he had put on to travel to Midgard. Thor said he'd eaten but was it enough?

As ever, Loki's eyes took in all mine saw.

"Mother – I'm fine. I assure you. Stop planning the remainder of my evening with bath and foodstuffs. Come, sit with me on the balcony. Let us enjoy the evening air."

He offered me his arm, escorted me to his balcony and handed me into the couch.

"I'd forgotten how truly lovely the evening is here." He said as he sat next to me. "The endless sky. The smell of the salt marsh and the sound of the night birds. If I but close my eyes I am a child again and all possibility still lies before me."

In the light of the moon shining over us, I could see that he didn't close his eyes; he looked out over the land with an expression on his face that matched the regret in his voice.

"All possibility still lies before you, Loki. Life cannot exist without hope."

He smiled and it was a sad smile and I took his hand between both of my own and held it tightly.

"Do you think I felt hope when I was an infant abandoned in the snow?" He asked me.

I lifted one hand and pressed it gently against his cheek. Oh, my child. My dear, dear child.

"Of course you did. All a baby knows is hope. When he's hungry, he hopes someone will feed him. When cold, that someone will warm him. When lonely, that someone will come to him. Until a baby learns to _expect_, all a baby knows is hope."

He took my hand from his cheek and kissed the palm and held it tightly in his own.

"Do you remember the night Father brought me home? Will you tell me of it? Since I've learned the truth of my birth, I've never had the will to ask about that night."

There was no self-pity in the question. He only sought an honest answer.

"Of course I remember. I remember every single moment of that night. It was a terrible war with a terrible cost and I truly, truly believe that it would have been your father's eternal millstone if he had not the joy of bringing you into our family."

"Did he? Did he express joy?" Loki's question was broken and seeking. His eyes shone with poorly concealed yearning.

"Oh, Loki – if you could have seen him. I'd only seen him that happy when Thor was born. He refused to go to the healing room until he placed you in my arms and satisfied himself that I could take proper care of an infant."

Loki smiled at that. He turned to face me more, keeping our hands still entwined.

"I wonder that he dared think anything else of you."

"Your father is a wise king, a true warrior, a wise counselor, an adoring father – but he was once a _young_ father. I hurried him to the healing chamber so that I might bathe you and dress you and feed you – without further helpful suggestions from him."

Loki smiled again but then dropped his gaze to our hands.

"What did you think? When you saw me, when – when Father told you what I was, what did you think?"

"I loved you from the moment I saw you. And from the moment your father placed you in my arms, I knew that my life would never be complete again unless you were part of it."

"But what of my Jotun blood?"

"Yes, indeed, my son. What of it? I never gave it a thought."

His eyes were bright and he looked down, with that particular tilt of his head that always shows his mind at work. I sometimes wondered if his mind ever wasn't at work.

"But – but – how could you not? Even now – especially now – especially after all the misery I've caused, how can that not be your thought? Your only thought?"

As if a mother could have only one thought about her child.

"When you were hungry, I didn't ask, 'how do I feed a Jotun child?' When you were tired, I didn't ask, 'how do I put a Jotun child to bed? When you had a nightmare, or were scared, or unwell, I didn't ask, 'how do I comfort a Jotun child?' All I asked was 'how do I take care of _my_ child?' I've been asking ever since."

He didn't look at me and I squeezed his hands.

"I'm asking it now."

Loki took a deep breath. He lifted his head but didn't look at me.

"I'm scarcely a child."

I detected a note of petulance in his tone. He'd had a tiring, if not long, day. Healing, even the healing of mind and spirit, can be as draining as physical combat. I ought to have been urging Loki to his bed, but I knew there was more he wanted to say, more he needed to hear.

I leaned closer and kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair.

"You will always be my child."

He let out a breath and slid his body forward, slouching down so that his head could rest against the back of the couch, the same as when he was young and wanted to show how little he cared for posture and protocol.

"May I tell you something, Mother?"

"Of course. Anything."

"I don't care for the nighttime. The darkness, the stillness, it puts something haunting into my heart, so that all I can see and hear and remember is the pain and sorrow and destruction I've caused. All that malice that I felt for so long, that I would still be feeling were it not for this – this – " he gestured towards himself. "This _remedy_. That perhaps I do still feel. I lie awake at night, reliving the horrors of my making, again and again."

"And so you sleep all day for you get no rest at night."

"What rest do I deserve? What freedom? What happiness?"

There was no anger or accusation in his voice or expression. Only weariness. He leaned against my arm, heavily.

"Today went so well." He said. "Beyond all hope and expectation. I thought a threshold had been crossed and that the door which opens upon my agony had been finally shut. But…" He sighed. "I am grateful to have been relieved of the madness and wrath; would that the pain could be blotted away as well."

I longed for that as well.

"Loki, even with all our skill and knowledge and best intentions, no one has ever been able to heal a broken heart. That is the one thing that heals as it will."

He nodded and was silent, we both were, sitting together, shoulders pressing, hands entwined.

"That first night that you were home with us," I began, brushing my thumb gently, lovingly, over Loki's fingers. I kept my voice soft and melodic. "You would not sleep. You were fed and bathed and clothed and swaddled, but though you would drift off, you would always and immediately stir yourself awake again, as though you feared sleep. I would soothe you and you would drift off and stir awake and cry. Your father came in and took you from my arms and sat with you. He said to you, over and over, 'A_ll is well, my son. You are home and you are safe. Your mother and I are here. Sleep and we will be here when you awake. Go to sleep my son, all is well…'_"

Within moments, Loki was asleep at my side, just as he slept peacefully in his father's arms that first night, so long ago.

Tomorrow, I would work with the mistress of the wardrobe to see that my son had fresh clothes and proper attire. I would work with the master of the kitchens to help fashion the Midgardian foodstuff that Loki had eaten this day, of which odd description I had been fully informed by Thor and Odin. Tomorrow I would ensure that Loki had time enough to spend with his father and brother, out in the air and sunshine, and not in self-exile.

Tomorrow, we would continue the long walk to healing and wholeness.

Tonight, I would stay by Loki's side and guard his heart through the darkness.

.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Morning could not come quick enough for me. I needed to see my brother again; I needed to see if yesterday's triumph of spirit over dejection had carried over into the new day. I left my chamber as soon as I was wakeful and garbed and hurried the short distance to the door of Loki's chamber.

Mother was just leaving his chamber as I approached. She had a length of dark green fabric in her hand, a skein of thread about her shoulders, and a smile upon her lips.

"Bring him to breakfast." She told me, brushing a kiss across my cheek as she passed.

Those words alone brought me more hope than I'd long had for my brother. In all these long weeks of his healing, he'd barely eaten anything, much less come to the family table for any meal. The fact that Mother seemed certain Loki would join us this morning was a cause for celebration.

I knocked once upon Loki's door and entered, expecting cheerfulness and activity. But Loki sat upon the back of his couch, feet upon the cushions. His hair was damp, so he had bathed this morning, and he was wearing fresh clothing. But he was staring forlornly at his bed.

He looked up at me and in his saddened countenance I could recall a hundred moments from our childhood of the heartbreak of lost toys, postponed amusements, and misplaced shoes.

"Brother – what is it?" I asked, ready to slay a thousand adversaries on his behalf if need be.

He drew a deep sigh.

"Mother has said that I am not allowed back in my bed until nightfall, and then only if I have spent three hours outside of my chambers, one hour at least of which must spent outside the palace proper."

I was going to laugh – at Mother's strategy, at Loki's pout – until he addressed me again.

"Do you think you might have an hour otherwise unclaimed in your day, Brother, that you might squander accompanying me?" He asked.

"My day is yours." I told him, and gladly. "And it could never be _squandered._"

He smiled gratefully, as though I _had_ slain a thousand adversaries. Or found a misplaced shoe.

"Come, Brother." I beckoned him. "Let us to breakfast. We'll order our horses ready for when we've eaten. Mother will arrange a mid-day meal for us and then we can roam the countryside at will. It is too long since we have simply done _nothing_ together."

Loki came off of his perch on the couch and to my side.

"Mother said she is going to craft Mr. Stark's chili cheese dogs from Asgardian ingredients. Perhaps I shoulder ask her to provide those for us." He said.

"And I shall tell Mother that you need her liver pudding to get your strength back." I answered.

Another smile played upon Loki's face.

"Neither?" He asked.

"Neither." I agreed.

Together we walked to share breakfast with Mother and Father.

##

A/N: I've had an original story published in the online journal Red Fez (!) It can be found at redfez dot net slash fiction slash 533 slash 0 The title is Dead Spot and it's under my real name Maureen. If you read it, let me know what you think of it.


End file.
